


Fate/Broken Paradise

by 7th_The_Writer



Category: Fate/Apocrypha, Fate/EXTRA, Fate/Grand Order, Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms, Fate/stay night - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, OC Grail War
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-15 18:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15418749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7th_The_Writer/pseuds/7th_The_Writer
Summary: A scant ten years after the fifth Holy Grail War, the grail suddenly reemerges, and with it a new war begins. Command seals begin to manifest all around the world, calling to a new generation of masters. Old and young, experienced and naive, the grail calls to them each alike. Servants are called, everything is seemingly as it should be.But something's different about this war. Something sinister.The war is on.





	1. Day 0: Masters to Be

_Somewhere… Somewhen…_

_A young woman stands, broken and discarded_

_Forgotten… Purposeless… Determined_  

_She hears nothing but wind. She sees before her nothing but snow. She feels nothing but coldness._

_She leaves behind nothing but the castle of snow. A shell of a home, a shamble of a once proud and noble family. But nothing left for the woman who leaves it behind._

_She cared not for the castle, nor for the wasteland ahead of her._

_Her only impulse is to flee._

_One foot in front of the other. One slow, plodding step, then to another._

_Her eyes are dull, her expression is blank, she has but a singular resounding thought echoing through her mind._

_“Escape”_

_Anywhere but here. Anything but herself._

* * *

“My son, so good to see you have arrived." 

Isaac Durnham knelt down before the preacher. “Father, I am indebted to your kindnesses.” 

“Nonsense, it is you who walks the troubled path. It is as much my duty to ease your passage as any I perform within the church.” Father Kannu stepped down from the pedestal and approached Isaac. “But it is not only this duty that troubles you, is it?”

How could Isaac possibly communicate all that was roiling in his brain? That he’d been uprooted from his home, his life, at the behest of a grand, heretical artifact. That he was now thrown into war with maguses. That the last of their fellowship, the blasphemer Kotomine, had committed unspeakable atrocities in the name of this very war? That this world of mystic battles is what had pulled his family apart in the first place? That despite it all, there was an unignorable curiosity about the whole thing?

After an extended silence, he sighed. “Father, why is it I was chosen for this war?”

Kannu sat besides Isaac. He looked up to the golden cross before them and closed his eyes. “That, Isaac, I do not know. If I may speak candidly? That The Order would elect you, in light of your circumstances, is a mystery. By all metrics, you have none of the qualifications of a master in the Holy Grail War.”

Isaac’s eyes cast downward. “I see. Thank you, Father.”

“Even still, our God acts in ways humans cannot understand. Perhaps, so to, does The Order,” Kannu put his hand on Isaac’s shoulder. “Have faith, Isaac. Just as you were chosen as participant, I have been chosen as Overseer. And it does my heart well to know there is some semblance of righteous honor in this coming storm.”

“Thank you, Father,” Isaac said. “By the Grace of God, I walk forward unafraid.”

“And by the Light of The Lord, shall you walk in safety,” Kannu finished before standing and returning to the podium. “How has your host family found you?”

“The Watanabe family has been nothing short of a blessing,” Isaac said earnestly. He rose to his feet and followed Kannu. “I am thankful to them, and to you for arranging my stay.”

“Wondrous,” Kannu dug behind the podium and produced a small, plain, wooden box. “But still I have one more kindness to bestow upon you. A delivery from The Order, intended for your use in this war.”

With all the care possible, Isaac lifted the box from his hands. “The artifact…”

“It would appear so,” Kannu turned his back on Isaac. “My son, this may be the last time we speak to one another. As overseer, I am forbade from interfering in this conflict, for ill intentions or otherwise.”

“If it should come to that, Father, then again shall we meet among the choir invisible,” empty words for both their sakes. “I could ask no more of you, as my overseer, as a fellow servant of God, or even as a friend. You have been invaluable to me, and for that I give you eternal thanks.”

Kannu gave a soft smile. “Go forth, Father Isaac Durnham. May the light of Heaven lead you to your victory,” His proclamation grew quieter before he continued. “And when you have found it, let us meet here once again. Under better circumstances.”

Isaac turned for the door. “Of that, you are assured. Farewell, Father Kannu.”

As Isaac stepped out from the Church, he felt an immense pressure slowly overwhelm him. From now into the foreseeable future, he was alone. He could not rely on the church to guide him. It fell on his shoulders to achieve victory, in the name of The Order, and in the name of God.

He opened the lid of the wooden box. He cautiously, hesitantly looked over its contents. A scrap of paper, frayed and yellowed with age. The markings upon it were foreign to him, but its inscriptions couldn’t be more clear. A fragment of a map, a battle fought long before Isaac had drawn breath.

With this, at least, his journey would not be completely alone.

* * *

 

“Glub glub glub, are you all seaing this? Did I forget to turn off easy mode? Is this a bot game? Oh my god!” 

In her family house, overlooking the beach, Cepha von Mink was engrossed in a game of [Censored]. Her fingers were a blur as she clicked and tapped and held and pointed in a flurry of actions. On screen, her character deftly evaded bullets and bombs as she took aim, pew-pewing arrows at anything not on her side.

“Like, really, these lame-os are like- BACHOOM!- totally sunk. I’m not even reely trying here, they’re just soooooooooo bad. I could prolly put one of the squiddies on the keyb- WHAT ARE YOU DOIN’ SHNOZBO!?- on the keyboard and they’d be playin’ at the same level as these losers! Glub glub glub glub~”

Seeing a moment of free time, Cepha switched tabs from the game to her stream. Chat? Very active, looking good. Donations? About a dozen since the last time she checked. Ha, losers. Current viewer count sitting at… 7,892. Nice! Cepha grinned widely into her camera before tabbing back into her game. She was just in time for their next team fight!

Cepha’s mouse was a whir of pointing and clicking the second she got control of her hero. Her tongue peaked out of her mouth as she focused entirely on the game. Her free hand typed furiously in the games messenger system, equal parts plugging her stream and flaming the enemy team.

“One, two… threefourfive… SIX! Cha-Ching!” Cepha laughed loudly as she cleaned up the row of minions in her lane while the rest of her team was busy dying to the enemies. “Good distraction, IDIOTS! With all the traaaaaaaaash down on that side, I can make my most sneakret of maneuvers.”

Cepha’s grin only widened as she continued down the lane. She would stop at nothing for this win! This was the most important victory in the history of [Censored]! No, wait, no, not even. The most important victory in history ever! She stopped herself a few times to pick up a few more minions (“ya never know whatcha might need~”) before she finally reached the enemy base. Ignoring the dumb dumb sheep who continued to spam ‘advice’ and ‘warnings’ and ‘look out’ messages, Cepha clicked the enemy base with all the fury her tiny hands could manage.

It didn’t matter that the enemy team was coming for her. It didn’t matter she was sitting on half health. It didn’t even matter that she forgot to buy items! “Bada Boom, Bada… BITCH! YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!” Cepha screeched in absolute ecstasy as she saw the enemies Power Node crack, crumble, and finally shatter into a zillion pieces. That oh so familiar fanfare played as Cepha watched those seven golden letters blast onto her screen.

**V I C T O R Y**

But that wasn’t all Cepha needed from her single-handed masterful display of [Censored] skills. That wasn’t what these 7,892 little nerdlings were here to see. Cepha watched with eyes as wide as her eyes as the blue bar at the bottom of the screen slowly filled up. “Boop boop boop boop boop,” she said quietly as she watched it. “Come on, come on, comeoncomeoncomeon, SHWING! Yes! Yes yes yes! I did it! Oh my glub, holy… oh wow! You guuuuuuuys~! Look look look we did it! We finally made it!” Cepha mooshed her finger against the screen, underlining the words as she read them off her screen.

“For finomenal talent on the fields of battle, we have seen fit to promote you to Bronze 2!” Cepha clapped her hands and she threw herself into her spinny chair. She whirled around twice before she felt herself getting sick and stopped. “Thank you! Thank you all so mu- OH FISH I FORGOT WHAT DAY IT IS!”

Cepha slapped the camera off her desk and drummed on her computers off switch. She couldn’t believe she almost missed the big… ceremony… thingy. Grandpa always said she was the only person who could miss her own funeral, but jokes on him. She’d missed his funeral instead! If he was so smart, how come he was dead? Cepha snarked to herself while she scampered around her room.

“Mhm, mhm, mhm… Chicken Blood… Ancient Tome… Crayons… Raw meat for hangry ghosts. Check, Check, Check, Check…” Cepha turned her clipboard over in her hands. Along the back, in bright red marker, she’d written her most important reminder. She tapped her forehead twice. A silent thank you to her brain for reminding her dumb brain not to forget.

“Gonna summon a ghost~!” She sang while digging through her closet. “Gonna kill all the huuuuuuumans~! Gonna save the whole Eeeeeeeearth~!” She fished out a small, stone bowl from the bottom of her closet. “And… uhhhh… Cepha national anthem needs some work…”

She shrugged, tucked the bowl in her pocket, and sprinted out her door.

* * *

 

Dear Lord, Avery hated planes. 

He rolled his shoulder as he and his ‘entourage’ proceeded through the airport. “My things, where are they?”

“Everything we could legally bring into the country has already been moved to your limo, Mr. Wray,” the first of his assistants lead him through the airport security checkpoint.

Avery paused for a moment to shake a cramp out of his leg. “Right, yes, and the rest of it?”  
  
“Moving through the normal channels, sir. Should be arriving in the city by tomorrow morning.”

He sighed in response. “Well, I suppose it’s better than nothing,” he snapped at the man approaching him with a silver suitcase. “You, what’s the schedule?”

“As per your requests, your schedule’s been completely cleared for the next two weeks, Mr. Wray. As far as the board is concerned, this is a merger venture with another company located within the city.”

“See if we can’t make that happen, I don’t plan to stay busy longer than the first week,” Avery passed the man and proceeded towards the door. Waiting just outside the airport building was his ride: A long, sleek, jet black limousine. The dark suited assistant who wasn’t currently handling Avery’s carry-on darted ahead of him, holding the door open for his young employer.

Avery slid into the backseat and took this opportunity to really stretch his legs. His outstretched hand quickly found itself gripping the handle of his silver briefcase just before the door was shut. He peered out the window to the two men stood dutifully outside the car. “If everything is in order, then you are to return home. Don’t let anyone past the board know that I’m here.”

The men exchanged glances. “Mr. Wray, are you quite s-”

“Absolutely,” Avery said as he began to roll the windows up. “I have no further need of your services, I shall return in two weeks time. Do not contact me until then,” Avery turned his attention to the front of the limousine. “Drive.”

“Right away, sir,” the old man said as they started down the road. “Any particular destination, Mr. Wray?”

“Take me to the edge of town,” Avery answered. By now he’d removed his gloves and began getting comfortable. Traffic would ensure he had some time to his thoughts. “I’ve very important business I’d like undisturbed."

“Of course, sir. Just as well, miss Erica called earlier.”

“Tell her I’m dead.”

“I already have, sir. She knows very well you’re not.”

Avery rolled his eyes. “She knows everything, that doesn’t mean I want to talk to her. Especially not now,” Avery crossed his arms and closed his eyes. He focused on relaxing his breathing, returning himself to a more neutral state. “Don’t worry much about them, Arthur. By the time we leave this city, she’ll be the one crawling back to us.”

“High hopes for this merger?”

Avery drummed his fingers on his briefcase. “Yes, very high hopes,” he grinned wickedly at his own private joke. The crimson tattoos on the back of his hand glowed dimly each time his fingers tapped against the metal case. In only a few hours more, he’d put its contents to use. And then, the circumstances of his blood, or his birth, or his training would mean nothing compared to the power he’d held. And at that thought, Avery couldn’t help but to laugh as he rested his head against the back of the chair.

“Arthur, wake me when we arrive,” Avery held the case close to his chest. “I want to be well rested for our first meeting.”

“Of course, sir. Enjoy your rest.”

As Arthur rolled up the tinted window separating himself from his passenger, Avery’s smile widened. With his artifact only a few inches from his heart, he’d never felt safer.

* * *

 

Lylah took careful aim at the bunker before her. Her breathing slowed, her eyes focused, her fingers tightened. Five targets. Two hostages. Unverified enemy positions. Wind and elevation negligible. Enemy intelligence compromised. Compound was lights out. Every detail was perfect. Even the shawl over her mouth meant her breath wouldn’t be visible. She was as good as a ghost. 

Patience. Silence. Lylah fell into a trance. Her eyes swept back and forth over and over. Peering into each window in turn. Becoming so familiar with every shape and shadow that every passing body was a shock to her senses. But it was nearly three minutes before everything lined up. The moment Lylah spotted her targets, she held her breath. And she pulled the trigger.

Top floor, far left. Five rounds to the chest.

Lower floor, center. Two rounds to the head.

Front patrol, off right. Three rounds to the chest, one to the head.

Rooftop overwatch, two bodies. Three rounds to each head.

Entrance, front door. One to the head.

Surrounding wall, far corner. Nine to the chest.

Lylah did one more sweep of the perimeter before finally exhaling and pulling her eye from the scope. A soft clapping sound came from behind her. Lylah turned back, pulling her shawl from over her mouth and giving the young man a warm smile. “Oh dear me, it looks like I overdid it a little.”

“All five targets is technically a success,” said the sharp suited young man as he looked past Lylah to the shooting range. “Both hostages though?”

“I don’t really care for ‘loose ends’, honey,” Lylah replied as she handed the weapon back to him. “At my age, It’s good for the heart to just cut down on liabilities.”

“Hey, least they can’t get kidnapped again, y’know?” He ejected the magazine from the rifle and looked it over. “Still got a few rounds tumblin’ around here. Extended mag no good?”

“Waste not, want not, Seym- ooh, I’m sorry, Shark. I’m sure if I ever really got into a rough spot, they could mean a whole lot more.”

“Alright, alright, we’ll keep the magazine. How’s the M4 treating you?”

Lylah pursed her lips. “Well, now, I don’t mean to sound ungrateful dear, but I really did prefer the old M16. Just a little sharper on the shot. And that stock is just too much for my shoulders. Do you think maybe one of your friends could put a cushion on the end?”

“Cushion on the stock, and take it back to the older model. I’ll tell the boys it’s to keep down recoil,” Shark began scratching notes into a small pad of paper. “Anything else needs touch ups?”

“The trigger’s too stiff. If my arthritis starts acting up, I might miss something important. Could you change up the pull weight a bit? And I’m not so sure how the scope will work if I get caught with my glasses on.”

“Already taken into account. It should do just fine with or without your glasses, Miss Mae. I’ll have it all fixed up before you go.”

“Well aren’t you the sweetest,” Lylah patted the arms dealer on the shoulder. “No wonder all my friends recommend you!”

“So that’s the M16, the M2010, and the M9, all customized for use by one ‘Duchess’, as well as all the bullets you could hope to use,” Shark checked off his notepad. “You’ll find a black briefcase outside the designated drop zone in a few days. Now, if you don’t mind my asking, what kind of job is this?”

“Multi-partisan low profile assassination.”

“Domestic or foreign?”

“Just cleaning up the neighborhood.”

“Anyone I’d know?”

“A lady never kills and tells, Shark,” Lylah teased as she made her way to the door. “The money’s already been moved into your account. And you have already found yourself on my Christmas card list!” She took one more step before turning back. “Oh where am I going, I nearly forgot! Did that art dealer of yours get back to town yet?”

“Yeah, Cecil’s up in his apartment. Not that I gotta tell you, but watch your back around those parts. Sweet old lady like you’s gonna look like an easy target.”

Lylah ran her fingers over the handgun resting at her hip. “Oh my, I’d certainly hope so! Exercise like that keeps a heart healthy,” she waved as she made her exit. Weapons acquired, cover established, intelligence established, ritual prepared. All that was left: to see a man about a shield.

* * *

 

CLACK. CLACK. 

Akari wiped the sweat from her forehead as she circled around the practice dummy. The thing was beat to Hell twice over already, but as long as it could still stand there and take it, she didn’t see a need to get a new one just yet. Her grip tightened around the wood sword. Another.

CLACK

Again.

CLACK

One more.

SMASH

Akari’s sword swiped right through the support keeping the dummy standing. She sighed and began to pack her things up. This was how most of her training sessions ended. Her sword and her gear was tucked into her duffle bag and slung onto her back. The now battered and broken training dummy was lifted off the floor and hoisted up onto her shoulder. She hit the lights on her way out, and made her way towards the school’s dumpster.

As she lobbed the wooden dummy up and into the bin, a familiar shiver ran down Akari’s spine. She sighed and closed her eyes. “What do you want?”

“Oh, so sorry if I interrupted,” chirped Ritsuka’s sweet voice. Just what Akari needed: more of this. “I didn’t realize playing with sticks was so important you couldn’t hang out.”

“I told you, I’m busy,” Akari turned and began walking past the other girl. “I don’t have time to just hang out.”

Ritsuka ran past Akari and huffed in front of her. “Yeah, but you won’t even tell me how you’re busy! I don’t see you in class, I don’t see you in the halls, it’s like you’re not even...” Ritsuka grew silent and cast her eyes down.

Akari crossed her arms and grit her teeth. “Yeah, okay, you got me. I failed. I flunked out. The Clock Tower doesn’t want me. And I don’t want them either! I can do this without them.”

Akari walked past Ritsuka once more, only to find her arm wrapped up in Ritsuka’s. “Hey hey hey, no! No more running off. What happened? Why… Why? I thought you were doing fine. Was it the fighting? Did you get in a fight!? I’m sure if we go talk to the teachers we can get you ba-”

“Will you stop already!” Akari yanked her arm free. “I don’t want to go back! I don’t need those stuck up snobs trying to tell me what I already know!” She raised a hand in front of her face and yanked off her training glove. Clenching her fist, Akari shown the crimson tattoo burning faintly against the back of her hand. “See this? This is proof that I am twice the mage anyone in the Clock Tower can claim to be. The Holy Grail chose me as a master, not them, not you, not my family, me. And when I win it, everyone will know it.”

RItsuka could only sputter and stammer as she eye’d the tattoo. “Th-That… y-you can’t-”

“I can, and I’m going to,” Akari said as she slid her glove back on. “I’ve already got a way to the city, and then I just need to summon my servant and win the thing.”

“But you’ll die!”

Akari shook her head. _Accelerating heartbeat. Streamlining blood flow_ . “Even you don’t believe in me, is it?” _Fortifying muscles. Strengthening tendons. Hardening bones. Expanding lungs._

Ritsuka shook her hands in front of her face as she took a few steps back. “No I didn’t mean it like that! Just that, you know, I don’t want anything bad to happen to you…”

In a whirl, Akari let her bag fall from her shoulder to the ground. She snatched up her kendo stick and pointed it to her friend. A gentle tap to her bottom jaw, just enough that she was looking to the sky. “... It won’t. I promise.”

Akari quickly slung the sword around, smacking against the side of Ritsuka’s forehead. Before her unconscious body could hit the ground, Akari had caught her. She slowly hoisted her up onto her shoulders and carried her back to the dojo. Once she was sure Ritsuka was as comfortable as could be, she shut the door to the dojo and refocused her magic circuits, focusing and empowering the bits of her that would need it.

As she took off into a sprint, the world around engulfed into a continual blur, she cast aside her doubts. The Clock Tower, and the mages inside it, were wrong. Akari Tsukihime was a mage of the highest caliber. And when the Holy Grail granted her the wish she held, there’d be no debate. It was only a matter of time.

* * *

 

Fat Tony, that deadbeat two timing sonuvabitch, was dead. Choked to death on his own blood, face down in the dirt. And Luigi Amore was the man behind it. Hell, he was the first one to pull the trigger. And now, as he and his crew looted the place, he couldn’t be happier with any of it. 

Fridays were sacred. Sundays were sacred too, but that was different. Friday was the night Luigi went out with the boys. For those who paid their protection fees for the month, Friday was the time Luigi collected. They’d make there way through whichever neighborhood the week demanded, get the money they were so rightly owed, and go about their usual business. Hell, sometimes they’d even stop for a dinner together!

But every once in a long while, some wiseguy would muscle in on Luigi’s territory. Someone would get a little too high and mighty and think they could work the crowds right under his nose. And Fat Tony was one of them. Not that Luigi was too broken up about it at the time. Guy was a lousy gangster and a lousy cardshark. Couldn't bluff to save his life. Literally, by the looks of it.

And that’s how Luigi ended outside the bastard’s house. You steal from the family, the family takes right back. With interest. And on any other day, at any other house, Luigi would be right in there with his men. He’d be tearing things down and ripping things up looking for every bit of value Tony had to his name. But for this one he chose to stand outside, and light up the first of many cigars for the night. When they’d tracked Tony back to this rundown shithole, Luigi knew it’d be different than all the other snitches and backstabbers.

Tony had been completely out of his fucking mind.

This wasn’t just some everyday clown getting too big for his shoes. When he’d struck out, all Tony did was rant about how he’d moved up in the world. Something bigger than the crime. Hell, he called it something bigger than humanity. But hey, if he wanted to run off and get married or whatever he was raving about, Luigi wasn’t about to stop him. He’d have been content to just forget the guy. But when word came in that he was talking to cops about what Luigi and his boys were running, on top of putting the squeeze on some of Luigi’s clients, well, that’s when the call went out. A personal call. Luigi wanted Tony to know the reason he was getting capped. He wanted to send a message.

And, yeah, sure, they knew the guy was a nut. But his hideout was on another level. Place was crawling with bugs. Stacks of trash littered the floor. At least half his furniture had been turned into firewood. But worse than all of that together was that oh so familiar smell of someone’s dead body. And that’s what kept Luigi on the sidewalk, letting his crew tear through the place.

Between puffs of his cigar, Luigi watched two of his lieutenants drag out beaten up furniture and weirdly exotic artwork into the yard. Following a particularly ratty looking couch getting tossed out, one of the guys peaked out the front door. “‘Ey, boss, you’re gonna wanna see this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m comin’,” Luigi stamped out the last of his cigar before moseying on into the house. “Better not me wastin’ my time with this. I get the stench’a this hole on me, my wife’ll have my head.”

As Luigi was lead through the now somewhat presentable safehouse, he got a better look at just what kind of place Tony had made for himself. Namely, that the guy had a lot of books. Stacks of books, piles of books, shelves of books, tables covered in books. All of ‘em looked worth something, but the idea that someone like Tony was secretly a one man library boggled the mind. A lot of them were just laid out all over the place, open to random pages of foreign words and creepy diagrams. Luigi’d need to bring in an exorcist before he sold this place off.

But weirdest of all was the room he arrived in. A small room behind a massive metal door. Inside wasn’t much. A small shelf with- god damn it- more books. A few small bags strewn about. But what immediately drew the eye was a crimson design painted into the floor. A six pointed star inside circle, which was itself inside a circle, with weird symbols and letters thrown about it. Luigi could only scratch his head and walk around the symbol.

“... Well what the hell is it?”

“Uhhh, blood, sir.”

“JESUS CHRIST,” Luigi practically jumped away from the room.  He made a sign of the cross before flipping through the pages of the nearest book.  “What the hell kinda devil-magic was Tony gettin’ pulled into? Christ that’s a lot of blood…”

Luigi’s brow furrowed as he got the gist of whatever the book was talking about. “Yeah, it’s some cult magic shit. How to… build a ghost or somethin’. Bring the dead back to life. Heh, Tony prolly coulda used that right about now,” Luigi laughed before tossing the book over his shoulder. As he reached for the next, his eyes narrowed and he let out a long, slow exhale. “Hey, why don’t you boys take the resta the night off. I’ll catch up with ya tomorrow.”

The couple of guys standing watch exchanged glances. “You sure about that boss? We’re almost done with the place.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry about,” Luigi began fishing around in his pocket. “Get the good stuff out of here and get home. S’late enough as it is, don’t worry ‘bout me.”

With a shrug, Luigi’s men cleared out, passing along the bosses instructions. When he was sure he was alone, Luigi took his hands back out of his pocket.

“Well shit, Tony, maybe you weren’t such a dumb bastard after all,” Luigi muttered under his breath as he looked over the bright tattoo now enblazened on the back of his hand.

* * *

 

“Thank you, thank you!” Alexander flourished his cape as he took a bow. “Truly, you all are much, much too kind!” The audience ate it up, cheering wildly as Alexander removed his hat for another bow. A flock of doves emerged from the top hat, much to his (faux) surprise. 

“My, my, what have we here?” Alexander grinned to the audience as he looked over the top hat. “It would seem we’re not quite done with the show then?”

Another chorus of cheers as Alexander suspended his hat on thin air and drummed his fingers against his chin. “But what more could I possibly do? I could split someone in half, but that’s been done before! I could levitate before you all, but no, that’s much too small. Hmmm.. Ah ha!” Alexander clapped his hands together. A white tipped cane sprung out from between his hands as he pulled them apart. “For you, the wonderful crowd that you are, I shall instead provide something never to be seen before or after! A trick, nay, not a trick, magic that cannot be replicated!”

Thunderous cheers echoed through the venue as Alexander picked up his hat and cane. “Yes, yes, for this night and this night only, Alexander Valentine shall perform a feat so spectacular, it shall shock and amaze the entire world! If you will all give me but a few moments, dramatic tension if you will, to prepare, this is my promise!” With a wave and another flourish, the curtains closed, and the stagehands got to work.

“How are we doing?” Alexander questioned his assistant as he made his way backstage.

“Fantastic,” Sheryll answered without looking up from the computer. “Stream audience is up almost twelve percent from last week, feedback has been very strong.”

“And how are my tigers doing?” Alexander cast his eyes to the cage they were being lead to. “Last time the teleportation got Hunter sick right on stage. He’s doing well?”

“Hunter and Ming both look like they’re in top shape. When they got backstage it seemed like they're starting to enjoy that trick.”

“Excellent,” Alexander tapped his cane against Sheryll’s desk. “And how were we in procuring my artifact?”

Sheryll nodded towards a small box sitting besides her as she tapped frantically against the keyboard. “The best we could get through customs, Alexander.”

Alexander lifted the box and tucked it under his arm. “Everything really is coming up Valentine these last few weeks,” he laughed quietly as he began to tear open the cardboard packaging. “I would hate to do this trick without the most important prop.”

Sheryll’s hands froze in place. “I’m sorry?”

“Well, the summoning, of course. Without a proper catalyst who knows what breed of monster I might have pulled out before these people. But with these-”

“Oh no no no, I don’t think so,” She shut her laptop and rose up to her feet. “You’re not about to pull a servant out of your hat up there. That wasn’t the plan.”

“Plans change.”

“The Mage’s Association will kill you, you know that right?”

“And how are they going to do that?” Alexander held up the wooden box he’d pulled from his package. “I’m going to have a super powerful demigod of a homunculus fighting by my side. Plus it’ll make for a great go home trick.” Sheryll tried to speak out once more, but Alexander had already begun for the stage. “Well, looks like the symbols all scrawled out for me. And… there’s the carpet to cover it! Make sure the cameras get my good side… Who am I kidding, they’re all good sides!”

With a toothy smile, Alexander returned to the stage, and was once more met with uproarious applause. “Tonight! I will be performing a spell that will not, cannot, and never shall be replicated on this, or any, stage! There will be no mirrors, no wires, no trapdoors, no curtains, no sleight of hand. A lesser magician may require such props, but I am no lesser magician!” Alexander worked the jitters out of his hands. He’d done plenty of tricks before, on plenty of stages, but never one quite so dangerous. Or so stupid.

“Tonight, for you and you alone, I shall be pulling a person from thin air! The world’s first ever public summoning ritual!”

As the crowd once more grew heated, Alexander placed the wooden box at his feet, clicked off his microphone, and began the chant.

* * *

 

“... Are you to be my master?” 

“One of us, yes.”

“I understand.”

“Then we’re on the same page… Here, go fetch yourself some more modern clothing”

“I beg your pardon?”

“I want you to be our eyes and ears in this war, and that can’t well happen if you’re dressed… like that.”

“On that, at least, we agree.”

“Good, now go. When you return, we will have much to discuss.”

“I would imagine more than even you realize…”

 

And with the wind, the Holy Grail War officially commenced.


	2. Night 0: Gathering the Storm

“I call out to thee, through the veils of heaven and earth,

A contract through time, a foundation built of stone and sky...”

“Let crest the wave of humanity, that again you are given strength,

Let rise a mountain of faith, upon which I alone may claim as thine...”

“Let open the mouth of the abyss, and all the fires of Hell,

That together we may be bound, beyond closed gates of paradise...”

“Together shall we walk the paths of war and ruin

I the tether of this Earth, And you my path to glory or salvation…”

“Hear my voice and take my hand, stand at my side,

By the Grace of the grail, pass through from beyond, heed my summons!”

“Let the blood spilled before us be a symbol of this contract,

That I shall be all that I am, so you may be all that you can be…”

“Rejoice upon this summons, break free of your shackles,

With these words, I grant you once more life,

Heed the call of the grail, and step forth!”

 

* * *

 

Alexander staggered back a few steps as the brilliant light emanating from the carpet at his feet bloomed into a pure white explosion. Much of the stage was engulfed in the light, forcing everyone trying to learn the secret of Valentine’s trick to shield their eyes or risk blindness. The winds whipping and whirling out from beneath the carpet began to die down as the magical light faded. The stage lights that had flickered above stage from the beginning of the chant at last returned to full power. As everyone, Valentine included, collected themselves, one thing became apparent:

The summoning had been a success.

Now stood at the center of the stage was Valentine’s servant. He stood a few inches taller than Valentine himself, looking about at the packed house before him. The man carried a distinct formality to him, and the pitch black armour and flowing cape did nothing to diminish that fact. He had a determined, almost stoic, look about him, but when the crowd got their bearings and began to applaud the trick, that illusion broke down. He sported a proud smile as he ran his hand through his hair, only to have it snatched up in Valentine’s as he pulled them both into a bow.

“Thank you, thank you one and all!” Alexander grinned as he looked out onto the crowd. “Let’s give another big hand for my loyal, trusted associate in this! Let’s hear it for Rider! Good night to you all!”

Another burst of cheers was met with another bow. Alexander waved goodbye to the crowd as they rose to their feet. The trick platform Alexander and his servant were stood upon began to sink down into the stage. Both men smiled wide as they stepped off the lift, ready to make their getaway from the show.

“I take it you’re to be my master?” Rider maneuvered through backstage personnel as he kept up with Alexander.

“Yes, that would be me! Alexander Valentine, world’s foremost Mage-ician,” Alexander stopped himself right outside his dressing room. “So wonderful to see even my servant is a natural showman! Thought I expected nothing less. Flash and pizzazz is the way of you Rider servants, isn’t it?”

Rider laughed and shook his head. “I suppose it would be, Master. However, I am no Rider!” He pulled one of the two swords dangling from his belt from its sheath. The great steel broadsword glistened and shined, even under the lights of the theater maintenance tunnel. “Master Alexander Valentine, you fight at the side of I, the servant known as Saber!”

Alexander drummed his fingers against his chin as he looked over his servant, and his sword, once more. “Huh… And here I thought Alexander the Great was a shoo-in for Rider. But Saber will certainly suffice!”

“And what makes you think that I am Alexander the Great, my master?”

He shrugged. “The catalyst. Greek horse hairs, plucked only a couple days ago. Probably. I figured any Greek hero would fit my style, but a Rider could, y’know… drive me around?”

Saber clapped his hand on his master’s back as he laughed heartily. “Oh no master, I am no Alexander. In fact, I have no allegiance to Greece at all. Only my stallion calls those lands his home,” Saber noted his master’s darkening expression, which only prompted him to grow louder and more bold. “My home, my nation, my people, has always been Spain. El Compeador! The Lord of Battle! Gaze upon me and rejoice, for I am the hero heralded as El Cid!”

“Zero for two on getting the servant I wanted, and I couldn’t be happier with it,” Valentine admitted as he continued down the hall. “If you’re even half as strong as you look, Saber, the war is as good as mine. How did you enjoy your summons, by the way?”

“Unexpected, but not wholly unpleasant,” Saber resheathed his blade and followed besides his master.

“Oh no, I saw that grin. You’re a natural, Saber, a born showman! You and I are going to get along perfectly, I can tell. The first thing you’ll learn about me: I’m never wrong.”

Saber grinned and pushed open the door at the end of the long hallway. Beyond the door was the staff parking garage, and spotting Alexander’s car was no difficult task. Among the minivans and motorcycles, spotting the luxury sports car was a cinch. Even still, Alexander pointed out the vehicle as he passed under Saber’s arm.

“I’ve got a few suits packed in the trunk,” Alexander clicked a button on his keyring. “I figured you’d be a little taller, but even an off-sized suit isn’t going to draw nearly as many eyes on us as that armour of yours.”

Saber’s armour dissipated into a golden mist as he fished around through the trunk. After a couple of minutes of comparison and deliberation, he decided on a red and black tuxedo. Valentine waited patiently as his servant slipped into his new clothes before walking around the car and pushing his key into the lock.

Saber looked over his outfit in the mirror. “I like this!”

“Yeah, you look sharp,” Alexander glanced over to his servant. “C’mon, we’re going to the hotel.”

“May I drive?

Alexander stopped and looked back at his servant. “You… know how to drive? Like, a car?” 

“Of course! There is no mount, mechanical or otherwise, that I cannot tame!”

“And you know where we’re going?” 

“I do not.”

Alexander shrugged and threw the keys to his servant. “Yeah, sure, why not?”

Saber laughed proudly as he moved to the opposite side of the car and entered the driver’s seat. “This… This is a vehicle worthy of a legendary hero!”

“Top of the line,” Valentine smiled as he got comfortable. “Custom parts for my personal getaway vehicle. Now jus- woah!”

As Saber put his hands on the wheel, the car’s engine revved loudly. Saber grinned widely as his hands went to work piloting. “It answers to my touch, Alexander! This truly is the age of miracles!”

“Yeah, it’s… not supposed to do that,” Alexander made to take his keys from Saber’s hand, only to find himself pinned to his seat by the speeds his car hit in a near instant. Saber’s eyes narrowed as he lead the car out of the garage and onto the near empty late night streets. They zipped through the city, weaving around traffic and down unused back alleys. Less than two minutes after Saber peeled out onto the streets, Alexander’s phone rang.

“I’ve got to take this,” Valentine slid his phone out his pocket and placed it to his ear. “Alexander Valentine speaking, how can I help you?” Immediately Alexander yanked his head away from the phone as a tirade of curses, metaphorical and literal, spilled out from the other end. He shouted at the phone “Alright… Alright, Sheryll? Sheryll calm down… Sheryll you’re not calming down… Look, Saber is taking me on a one way ride to Hell, I’ll call you when I’m not afraid for my life, thanks.”

Alexander closed the line, and tossed the phone out the window. There’d be time for repercussions in the morning.

“Is there a problem?” Saber glanced over to his master.

“... Nah, I’m sure it’s fine. Just pick us out a hotel, I’ll cover it.”

“On your command!” Saber pressed his foot to the floor, and the car took off with renewed speed further downtown. This was how Alexander Valentine started a war.

 

* * *

 

It had taken Luigi a couple hours to even begin to figure out how this summoning thing was supposed to work. Every book Tony had on him was full of some different drawing, or different phrase, or some crazy circumstances to make the thing work. But it was the oldest, moldiest, crustiest book in the place that lined up with the blood painting Tony had made up before he got capped. And what was the answer? The way to make a deal with the devil or whatever and get this stupid tattoo to work?

Poetry.

Some ancient chant so worn into the pages Luigi needed his glasses to make out what it was saying. He held book up to his face with one hand, and extended his tattoo’d hand out to the circle. So good so far, if the book was any indication. The next several minutes were spent bumbling through the chant. Once, twice, three times before Luigi thought he got it down. The surest sign that he got it was all the magic shit happening.

The bright lights shooting out of the blood circle, the winds whipping about the house from in front of him (making it rather hard to keep reading the book), and the overwhelming pressure enveloping Luigi all seemed like good signs that the thing was working. After struggling to keep his composure, and his focus, on the book and the chant, Luigi uttered the final line and was engulfed in a powerful light. For a few seconds, he thought he was dead. Then the smell of Tony’s hideaway hit again, and he realized he was still very much alive. Luigi rubbed his eyes and swatted away a cloud of dust as the light faded and he could lay his eyes on the room once more.

“Christ, all that ‘n’ I got nothin’, huh? Figures,” Luigi huffed as he looked around the room. The bloodstain had become a burn mark in the floor but other than that, no ghost, no devil, no nothing. All that flash and no substance. Luigi hated to admit it, but he was kind of disappointed. Maybe Satan could’ve explained all this crap to him.

“Well, that’s that. Thanks for nothing, Tony.” Luigi grabbed his hat off the table and started for the door. But as he stepped out of the house, he had to stop. And blink. And try to take in what he saw. “The hell?”

Lounging on the couch Luigi’s enforcers had dumped in the front lawn was a man. He was leisurely leafing through an old, beat-up book, and paying little attention to Luigi. Against the dingy night sky and the even dingier neighbourhood Tony had hid out in, this guy stood out like a sore thumb. Long white hair framing an angelic face that reeked of “up to no good”. He was fitted into a tailored blue suit and white cravat. And the thigh high black boots and intricately woven white gloves gave the guy an aura of both perfect gentleman and backstabbing snake. Something Luigi had worked hard to project himself.

He looked up from his book, lazily shutting it and tucking it into his coat pocket. “Finally done in there, boss?”

Luigi drew his pistol and pointed it at the guy. “Who the fuck are you?”

“Oh, I get it.” He pushed himself up off the couch. “This one of them tests, right? I know you mafioso types are all about loyalty ‘n’ all that. Lemme make it easy for ya.” The man waltzed up to Luigi, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and put it to his forehead.

“You got some kinda deathwish, pal?”

“It’s not like this little thing’s gonna hurt me, boss. Go ahead, give it a try.”

“Your funeral,” Luigi said before pulling the trigger. Click. “... Eh?” Click. “The hell, this thing’s never jammed.” Click. Click. Click.

The stranger laughed and pulled the gun from Luigi’s hand. “And they say the Irish are lucky. But look at us!” He pointed the gun at the grass and pulled the trigger. The gunshot rang out through the night. “A couple of boys from the old country, gettin’ by on luck and charm!”

Luigi’s eyes widened as he snatched his gun back and slid it back into its holster. “The hell are you doin’? Better yet, who the hell are you? The fuck is going on?”

“Oh.” The man’s laughter cleared up. “Oh so you really don’t know. Huh. Well then I guess you’re the lucky one here, not me. C’mon, let’s walk and talk,” the man began down the street towards Luigi’s car. “First of all, boss- can I call you boss?”

“... Yeah, sure.” Luigi’s head was spinning. What was this guy?

“Alright well, boss, you summoned me here. That magic ritual back in that dump, that’s how I got here. Now, normally, ya summon your servant and, poof, they’re right there in the circle. But I wasn’t about to be caught dead in that sty. So I waited for ya outside.”

Luigi stopped in his tracks and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Hold up, wait, so you’re some kind of… ghost, right? That whole magic thing was kinda vague about what exactly I was gettin’ out of this deal. The way Tony was rantin’ I figured maybe you was gonna be, I dunno, somethin’ a lot wilder?”

“A ghost? … Nah, not anymore,” the man beamed as he patted his chest. “Used to be, y’know, but now I’m all flesh and blood again. Well, sorta, s’complicated. But assume I’m made of the same bits as you, save us some time. You’re from Italy, right?”

“Born and raised, yeah,” Luigi answered with some suspicion. “I take it you are too?”

“Hit the nail on the head, boss. Born in Venice, never forgot it. I could tell from the moment I laid eyes on you, this was gonna be smooth sailing. You’re not gonna need a whole history lesson to get the gist of just what kinda catch you’ve bagged. All you need to know is a name. My name. Casanova.”

“Casanova, eh?” Luigi stroked his chin before fishing out another cigar from his pocket. Christ, was he really starting to buy into this bully? “Alright, lover boy, how’s about you explain to me what’s going on here? Why are you here?”

Casanova shook his head and leaned against Luigi’s car. “Look, all the specifics are gonna go way over your head. There’s a lot of magic and about two hundred years’a history lessons goin’ on into this moment, but here’s the important thing. Saber, Lancer, Archer, Rider, Caster, Berserker, ‘n’ me, the Assassin,” Casanova explained, holding up seven fingers and slowly curling them back in as he continued. “Seven servants, last one standing wins the whole war and the big prize.”

Now there was a phrase that struck a chord with Luigi. “Winning? Winning what? What’s the reward?”

Casanova grinned and crossed his arms nonchalantly. “Nothin’ too major boss, don’t get too worked up. S’just anything you want. A wish, courtesy of the Holy Grail itself.”

Luigi was silent for an abnormally long time before pushing past his servant and into his car. “Hop in, Cass. We’re getting you introduced to the boys. And on the way, you can tell me more about this shit you pulled me into.”

“Can do, boss,” Casanova answered with a wide grin as he climbed into Luigi’s backseat. “First rule of the Holy Grail War, you and me are partners to the end. Can’t win without each other. So I’m gonna stick by your side till I’m the one putting that grail in your hands.”

“Ya know what, Casanova, my boy?” Luigi started his old car down the road. “I’m starting to think this could be the start a somethin’ real good.”

 

* * *

 

Tonight was unquestionably the best night of Akari’s life. She was free of the Clock Tower and their ugly, stuffy uniforms. Free of all the shackles of her old boring life. She had taken the first steps into what was sure to be the single most defining decision she’d ever made. There she was, stood in the middle of the woods… in her street clothes… surrounded by blood... alone with a strange woman she’d never met before. The servant smirked and crossed her arms over her chest.

“So, I take it you’re my master then?”

Akari’s eyes widened. A smile unconsciously worked its way across her face. Whether is was her servant’s looks, or the air of dominant power that radiated from her, or maybe just the fact that she’d summoned up a servant at all, she was completely over the moon.

“YES!” Akari exclaimed before throwing her hand in the air. It took only a moment for Akari’s embarrassment to catch up to her excitement, and she composed herself once more. “Er, I mean, yes, that would be me.”

If the time ever came when Akari told of how she won the Holy Grail War, her first meeting with her servant would need some embellishing. But her servant didn’t seem altogether bothered by her young master’s enthusiasm. Judging by the smirk she was wearing, she was more amused than anything.

“Come on with it then.” She beckoned Akari closer. “Get over here, lemme get a look at ya.” Akari took a step closer only to have her chin grabbed by her servant. She turned Akari’s face to both sides, squinting in the dark and looking her up and down. “Oh, you’re a scrappy one, aren’t you?”

“Y-Yeah, I guess, what are you doing?” Akari pulled away from her servant and rubbed her jaw.

“Aye, captain’s got to know her crew, doesn’t she? I’m not letting ya send me out there if I can’t trust ya.”

“Captain?” Akari took a long look at her servant. Her messy red hair peaked flowed out from under a black tricorn hat. Her white billowing blouse had a v-neck that plunged her corset. Flared striped breeches tucked away into pitch black boots. And, above all else, pistols. At least a dozen flintlock pistols strapped to her vest, her waist, and her pants. “You’re a pirate?”

“Sure as the sunrise,” Akari’s servant answered proudly. “The best of ‘em, at that. And almost as importantly, the Rider servant in this war. Now s’your turn.”

“Well… Well, you’re going to have to trust me. My name is Akari, and I’m the mage who summoned you,” she stated plainly. Honestly, it was more to assure herself this was real than to prove herself to her servant. That part came next. “And, you’ll find that I’m not the type of master who’ll send you in on your own. I’m not like most maguses, I have combat experience, so I can lend a hand when you get into trouble.” Rider raised an eyebrow at this. “N-Not that I expect you’ll need the help, I’m sure you’re the strongest servant, just, y’know, I can fight too.”

“Oh is that so?” Rider chuckled and squeezed Akari’s shoulder. “Look, kid, Akari, it’s alright for ya to be nervous. I’m guessing this is your first taste of something this serious. I’ll walk you through this thing, don’t worry.”

“Perfect!” Akari smiled despite herself. This was meant to be a serious moment, but her servant was so… Cool! “Come on, follow me.”

Akari lead Rider through the treeline and deeper into the woods. Akari swatted away branches and rustled through overgrowth for nearly half an hour before they finally reached their destination. A small, seemingly abandoned two story house at the end of a long, worn down trail.

“Home sweet home,” Akari joked before holding the door open for her servant. Rider looked the place up and down with a less than impressed look about her.

“Yeah, it’s… real homey.” Rider flopped down onto a beat up old couch. “This where you and your man shack up?”

Akari looked up from the map at her dining room table. “I’m sorry?”

“Yeah, you know, a little love nest for some late night-”

“I-I don’t have a boyfriend.” Akari nearly missed Rider’s wide grin as she buried her face back into her map.

“Ah, I see. I guess I pegged you right after all. Don’t feel to bad, I’m the same way on a good night,” she finished with a wink.

“Just… get over here and help me strategize,” Akari huffed, focusing solely on the map until her servant came to her side. Akari pointed just beyond the edge of the city. “This is us, in the woods. Out of the way of any prying eyes, but close enough to the city and some important landmarks.” Akari took up a marker and made several marks across the map. “Most people mill about in the middle of town. That’s probably where the majority of the other masters are going to be.”

“Unless there’s a few like us, holed up in the middle of nowhere,” Rider added, tracing her finger along the forest line. “All this is dangerous territory, ‘specially as we get further from the shore.”

Crap. Akari hadn’t considered that. She tapped the marker against her chin. “Right,right, well luckily this cities got a river right through the center we can make some use of. Luckily the market’s not far from the river either, so when we go into to get us supplies and food- do servants need to eat?”

“No, but I appreciate it if you’re buying,” Rider replied with a smile.

“Alright, well, I scrounged up enough money that we should be fine on that end at least. We can get down there now, and still have time to patrol for the other masters!” Akari took a step towards the door, and her leg immediately began to quiver beneath her. “Damn it…"

“What’s got you?” Rider looked Akari over once more.

“I had this all… planned out,” Akari fought through a yawn as she took another shakey step. “But summoning you really has me beat…”

Rider chuckled and scooped up Akari in her arms. “Alright, Master, let’s get you some rest then. Yer no good to anyone if you can’t even walk straight.”

“But I-I’ll wake up really early tomorrow and we can go on the hunt then,” Akari offered, even as her eyes grew heavier.

“Don’t worry, Akari, I’ll hold ya to it.”

Those were the last words Akari heard before sleep took her.

 

* * *

 

“Oh Heavens, dear, you’re going to catch cold!”

Heroic spirits had many expectations when they answered their summons. They may have expected a brutal battle fought to the last. They expected legendary warriors with power rivaling their own. They’d even expect that they might die once more, be it in a glorious duel, or by the silent hands of the more unscrupulous servants.

However, among the long list of expectation, none expected to have their master, a tiny old woman, draping a brightly coloured scarf over their shoulders. Lylah, however, only smiled as she tied a loose knot in the scarf and patted her servant’s shoulder.

“Well hello there, young lady.” Lylah smiled and took a step back from her servant. “My my, aren’t you a tall one! And just look at you, in great shape too. I can already tell you’re going to be the perfect partner.”

The heroic spirit stared in stunned silence for a long, awkward moment. When finally she found her composure, a massive spear materialized in her hand. “I am Lancer, heroic spirit of the spear! I ask of you, are you my master?” She smashed the tip of her spear into the ground, sending a spray of pebbles of dust into the air.

Lylah coughed and waved her arm in front of her face. “Yes dear, that would be I. So nice to finally meet you!” Lylah beamed at her servant before walking around her. She hrmed and hmmed as she made her lap.

“Something troubles you, master?” Lancer peered at her master over her shoulder.

“Well, dearie, I just expected you to be, well, more like… a man? You are… were the king of those Zulu, right? I was so sure I got the right artifact for this...”

Lancer gave a derisive snort. “You wound me, master. That I am a woman does not mean I am no king. For one to hold the power, the strength, the might, that I did, they can be called nothing short of a king.” Lancer raised her spear up onto her shoulder. “Look upon me, my master, and know you witness power incarnate.”

Lancer pointed to the top of her head. A pitch black helm sporting massive horns fought to contain a sea of white hair. “My crown, that which guides my path of victory.” She clapped her free hand against her chest before holding it out to her master. Both her armour, what little of it she wore, and her gloves were made of the same black metal, both decorated with magnificent furs. “My gauntlets and my armour. My strength and my stamina. Though separately they are weak, when united by my hand they again grow strong. And this spear, my spear-”

Lylah took her servants hand and began to walk. “Come along sweetie. I’m sure you can tell me all about those knowing phantoms over some tea. All this excitement has me all a titter!”

Lylah lead her servant out from behind her woodshed and towards her house proper. It would have been a lovely house, all things considered. The stately, vined trellises, the fresh alabaster paint, the wide veranda with the exceptional view of the countryside, the deceptively expensive interior and the smell of apple pie in the oven. It had a hefty property value, once, now ruined by Lylah's insistence on littering the house with dozens of the kitschiest of tchotchkes. Little decorative Santas and nativity scenes, despite the holiday season being long since past; novelty shot glasses on top of Ouija boards; pink flamingos up against the wall in the living room. It was an appalling mess, but that was the way Lylah liked it.

Lylah put down two frog themed tea cups on her dining room table and set her kettle down between herself and her servant. Lancer looked around the disaster area as she let her spear vanish into a golden mist. “This is not what I expected the home of a mage to be.”

“And I’m probably not what you expected a mage to be either,” Lylah replied with a small smile. “I really must apologize, I’m sure a nice young heroic spirit like yourself has no interest in partnering with an old lady like me."

“On the contrary, master, to have an elder over my shoulder is a reassurance deprived of me most of my life. If you are to be my master, than I shall carry forth knowing I am in capable hands.”

“You really are sweet,” Lylah cooed as she poured tea for Lancer and herself. “I won’t be able to supply you with as much mana as these young masters running about. Our family ha- oh look at me, already lumping you is with us. My family has only been producing mages for a short time, and my old circuits aren’t what they used to be.”

“Worry not about such matters, master.” Lancer downed her tea in one gulp. “The armour I mentioned, my noble phantasm, the breastplate is-”

“It’s a lot of breast to plate,” Lylah complimented.

“... It is capable of keeping me sustained wholly of its own mana generation. I only need you to stay safe, my master.”

“Oh you really do remind me of one of my granddaughters, Shaka, dear.” Lylah smiled and rested her cheek against her palm. “She was a sweet, tall girl like you. A basketball player, why, hardly had to jump to make those shots. Brought home so many of those trophies and ribbons I hardly had the space for them! Now, she’s no mage, but I tell you watching her out there was- oh sorry dear, I’m rambling.”

Lancer’s smile warmed slightly as she listened. “It is well that you appreciate your family, master. To forget your family is to forget yourself.”

“Well, consider yourself my family now, sweetie!” Lylah sipped her tea. “But we are going to have to find you some new clothes tomorrow. I’m sure some of my grandchildren’s old clothes can get you covered up enough for us to go shopping.”

“Does Impondo Zenkomo bother you, master?” Lancer looked over her gauntlets and her armour. “That I bear my noble phantasm upon my body is a bravery few heroes can claim.”

“Oh yes, dear, you’re very brave! Everything I’ve read about you tells me what a strong, brave king you were. But if you want to come into town with me, getting you into something a little more modern means we can be seen together without danger!”

Lancer raised an eyebrow at this. “And why would we need to be seen together, if not for the dangers of finding another master?”

“Because we’re family now, honey! I want to take you on a tour of the city, maybe we could even go out for dinner tomorrow. This isn’t my first war either, you know. And getting you used to the city is a priority, tactically speaking.”

“Such is the wisdom of my elder,” Lancer replied before folding her hands in front of her face. “Speaking of tactics, master, permit to ask what you have in mind for this war.”

Lylah began to fish around in an oversized purse beside her chair. “It’s actually quite simple, dear. Though my magic isn’t anything to be too excited about, I have a fair few tricks of my own.” Lylah pulled out a small black metal rectangle, in moments unfolding it into a submachine gun. “You just worry yourself with the servants, and I’ll handle the masters, okay?”

Lylah glanced upward to her kitchen clock. 10:30. “Oh heavens it’s gotten quite late already hasn’t it?” She stood and began to clear up her teatime setup. “Time certainly flies in good company. I’ll show you to your room, Shaka dear.”

Lancer laughed as she rose to her feet. Her master was an odd one, truly. But she could not ask for a better one. And when the time came, when she could display just what her spear could do, she would know there was no better servant.

 

* * *

 

Avery wasn’t quite sure what he was looking at. Well, no, he was quite sure of what he was looking at. All the wind and light and razzle-dazzle of the ritual told him that he’d summoned a servant. And the overwhelming aura of strength coming from the figure seemed to indicate that, naturally, his servant was a force to be reckoned with. But beyond that…

Well, firstly, she was rather cute. She? No, not she. He… Probably. Glints of gold and silver caught the moonlight against his midnight black robes. The same color as her hair. Roses were scattered about his feet, a few petals having found themselves atop his boots. She drummed her hand against her chin as she looked Avery over, her nails painted the same red as her eyes, only a shade or two more brightly than the glow of his cheeks. Everything about Avery’s servant screamed regality, if nothing more.

Finally, she spoke. “As much as I’m enjoying this attention, you’re really not my type.” Oh yes, this was definitely a He. “So tell me then, ‘master’, are we doing this?” 

“We are,” Avery replied with a smirk. Out of his work clothes and in the presence of his own heroic spirit, Avery saw no reason to act as uptight as he would around his employees. That face always did grow tiring. “Name’s Avery Wray. Just so we’re on the same page here, what do I call you?”

“Emperor, naturally. Though in the face of our enemies, I suppose you would call me Archer.”

Avery pumped his fist. “Hell yeah, a knight class!” Archer’s laughter quickly put Avery back in check, straightening his posture and regaining some semblance of his composure. “Anyway, we should head back to my- sorry, OUR- base and get some rest. All I've got's a hotel room, not very fancy, especially not compared to what the both of us SHOULD have- buuuut it's what I could get on short notice. Right this way, Emperor.”

Archer smirked and quickly overtook Avery, leading him back into the heart of the city. “Of course, of course, my temporary home away from home. Now do tell, Avery Wray, what is that you do, exactly?”

Avery quickly moved to walk besides his servant. “I’m the lead designer for the N*rf toy company, which has over 80% market share in the largest country in the world and brings in over $400 million a year. Essentially, I make fake guns, people buy them, and that gets me an easy life. I'm also, obviously, a magus, since I summoned you, and I happen to have significant proficiency in destructive magic.” 

Archer nodded with each new fact presented. “I see, I see. Profitable. Talented, at least to some degree. Most excellent, you are not the disappointment you appeared to be at a glance! I suppose I shall keep you on as my retainer for the duration of this war. Prove yourself, and perhaps you shall stand with me even beyond that!”

“Of course, Emperor, that was the hope! Let’s get to the hotel, I’m beat.”

“It is rather late already,” Archer mused before pointing towards the city. “That is a hotel, yes? It will suffice.”

The reconstructed Hyatt hotel. Fan-tastic. After what happened a few years ago, the owners did anything and everything to make the new building as luxurious and high-society as they could. And, of course, they raised the prices to match. Ah well, Avery would be the richest person in the world when this was over, what was a little extravagance?

“Sure, yeah, I don’t see why not,” Avery agreed before retrieving his credit card. “Why don’t you run on ahead and, uh, pick whatever room you like. Don’t let me slow you down.”

Archer took the card from Avery and slid it down his sleeve. “I shall stake us a claim worthy of our pact. Do try and make it in one piece, Avery Wray, I would so hate to look for a new retainer so quickly.”

Archer took a few plodding steps away from Avery before disappearing into a shower of golden mist. Avery started towards the city, shaking his head and pulling out his cellphone. “This is going to take some work,” he muttered to himself. He scrolled through his contacts list before stopping on the all to familiar number of ‘Work’. Might as well walk and talk.

Avery ran some quick numbers in his head. Given the time difference, he’d be calling HQ… right at the start of the business day. Perfect.

“N*rf headquarters, you’ve reached Brendan, what can I do for you?”

“Heeeey Brendan, it’s Avery. Listen, can you go ahead and connect me to Donna? I need some stuff from my office and- actually, just put her on the line, she’ll know exactly what I’m talking about. She’s like a psychic with these things.” Always had to move the conversation along with that guy, or he’d be chatting for hours.

“Sure thing, Let me just go ahead and…”

Boop

“Hey Avery, calling about your stuff?”

He chuckled. “Took the words right out of my mouth. Investors wanna look into the MEGA line, maybe even get in a couple practice matches. Send over… hmm, Cycloneshock, Mastodon, and…”

“The Judge?”

“Yeah, Judge should be perfect. How soon can you get that all to me?”

“Mhm, mhm…” He could hear her tapping at her keyboard even over the phone. “We can get it to you same day shipping, so… I guess that would be about noon for you.”

“You’re a saint,” Avery said as he reached the city limits. “Don’t know what I’d do without you. And good work on the uhh- the Raptorstrike, clients are loving it.” Avery patted his suitcase. How Donna’d managed to slip his pride and joy through airport security, Avery would never know. But it was well worth giving her that raise. “And if you’ll excuse me, that 14 hours of flight time’s starting to get to me. You have a nice day, alright?”

“And you a nice night, Mr. Wray.”

Click

Avery immediately went back to his phone and dialed up his original hotel. There was a booking in need of cancellation. And by the time Avery reached his new lodgings, it was done. Not that the money saved would even scratch what he lost out on staying at the Hyatt. Thanks for that, Archer.

Avery approached the front desk, glancing upwards and outwards all along the lobby. It was, as expected, immaculate. “Hey, hi, Avery Wray. My uh, my friend booked the both of us a room here? Not too long ago? You’d know him if he came through, he’s really… recognizable.”

The concierge smiled and looked down to the screen in front of him. “Of course, Mr. Wray. Mr. Octavius said we should be expecting you.” He nodded towards the elevators. “Room 1012.”

Avery smiled a genuine smile. Octavius. “Thank you very much, I’ll be on my way.” And it was off to the elevators. And the surprisingly long ride all the way to the top floor. As he stepped off the elevator, Avery was surprised at how lavish everything was. Even compared to the opulence of the lobby, It was like stepping into another world.

“So this is the penthouse,” Avery marveled. “Should have booked one of these a lot sooner.” He walked to the end of the hall, room 1012, and gave a knock. “Room service.”

“Do come in, Avery Wray,” came an angelic voice that could only belong to Archer. “I had thought it was you who came down my halls. The door is unlocked.”

Avery gave a low whistle as soon as he got a good look at the place. “Hell of a room you’ve picked out.”

“I expect only the best, and acquire only the finest,” Archer mused from his resting place on the couch. “Did you acquire your toys?”

How did he know about that? “I did. Call them what you want, they’re gonna be winning us the war.” Avery set down his briefcase, flipped the false bottom, and retrieved his treasure. A N*rf Raptorstrike Model no. 1. The first of its line, and the first of Avery’s designs. Of course, this one was a bit more than plastic and airsoft, but Archer didn’t need to know all that just yet. “Or at least, keeping me intact long enough for you to win it.”

Archer clapped. “Good, good, I’m sure the other magus are quaking, knowing the both of us come armed.” Archer raised his hand, allowing a majestic golden longbow to form in his grasp. “As for myself, I come bearing only this. My most treasured Livia.”

“Livia? Well I guess it makes sense for an Archer to use a bow,” Avery quipped before discarding his coat. “Anyway, we’ve got a big day tomorrow. Warring to do and all that. But right now, right this second, I’m gonna go pass out on the bed.”

“Surely. Find your strength, Avery Wray, and know that tomorrow, we begin a proper war!”

Avery smiled and slipped into his bedroom. He was asleep before his face hit the mattress.

 

* * *

 

“C’mon c’mon c’mon c’mon,” Cepha demanded as she dragged the other girl behind her. “You gotta come with me!”

If she was honest, Cepha couldn’t be happier. She did the ritual, got to keep the little stone bowl, and got the exact kind of ghost she needed. A real cutie, with long long long long messy hair and messy clothes and a big cute messy hat and tired eyes and no shoes and- Oh she was the perfect kind of cute girl Cepha could use for all sorts of deviousness! But right now she just needed to make her dramatic getaway.

Cepha threw open the back door of her house and hollered at the top of her lungs. “MOM I’M RUNNING AWAY FROM HOME I’M GAY NOW THIS IS MY GIRLFRIEND- say hi to my mom.”

“H-Hillo?”

“AND WE DON’T NEED YOUR STUPID RULES AND BEING ALL JUDGY ABOUT US WE’RE GOING TO RUN AWAY AND NEVER LOOK BACK OKAY SEE YOU NEXT WEEK LOVE YOU!”

Cepha slammed the door shut and dragged her captive along with her. “Okie dokely, now we make our escape! Time to hit the town!”

“Y-You are master, yes?” Cepha’s captive, well, servant stopped in her tracks.

Cepha was dumbfloundered. She was flabbergasted. She was outright confused. Even for a ghost this was wildly unexpected. Why would anyone want to not be kidnapped by Cepha? Especially a cute girl! Whatever, anything to kee- OH WAIT!

Cepha puffed out her chest and gave the widest smile she could manage. “Glub glub, that’s right! I _am_ your master! Thank you for reminding me, pretty ghost!”

“... N-Not a ghost,” she admitted before gripping Cepha’s hand again. Excellent! The stockholm syndrome was already setting in! “Heroic Spirit… Servant…”

“Even better than a ghost!” Cepha cheered before continuing on her path. “A Servant! If you were a ghost I’da had to bust you, and, like, exert effort to put you under my thumb. But if you’re already a servant, we can skip that part! Hooray!”

“... Master cried when we met,” The servant said, her feet now moving in time with Cepha’s.

Cepha shook her head wildly. “Nuh uh, no way ho-zay. That was a front. A ruse. I only pretended to weep in terror, I’m no crysquiddy!”

“Cry… Squiddy…” She repeated. She walked a bit closer, now side by side to Cepha. “Master…”

“Woah hey now,” Cepha tensed up a bit. “Just cuz I own your soul and you have to do everything I say doesn’t mean you gotta call me that. I’m not into that stuff. Yet.”

“... Friend Master?” She asked with a cock of the head. One which Cepha instinctively imitated

“Master Friend…?” Cepha tapped her chest with her free hand. “You wanna be my friend?” She nodded frantically, the bare hints of a smile appearing on her face.

Naturally, Cepha freaked out. She could feel the heat in her face spread across her body. The fuzzy feelings. The disease of human kindness. It had infected her. Cepha yanked her arm away from her servant and turned her back on her. She had made a friend. A real friend, not a fakey fake internet friend who just wanted to see her [sea-nsored]. And so quickly! Cepha could already feel tears threatening to spill from her eyes. She’d already cried once today, twice was too much. She sucked those tears back, papped her cheeks, and spun back around to face her servant. Cool as a sea cucumber.

“Yeah, I guess we can be friends,” she spoke calmly and held out her hand to her servant. As friends do.

Cepha was immediately tackled to the ground as her servant threw herself at her. Her arms were around Cepha’s waist in a tight hug. Despite her frail appearance, Cepha’s servant was a lot stronger then her, as Cepha’s useless flailing proved.

All the air shot out of Cepha’s lungs along with a loud “oof”. She was angry, but not really. Too relieved to be angry. Too excited to be relieved. Her first friend-hug! Things could only escalate from here. And where did friendships escalate?

Cepha wormed and squirmed and wriggled out of her servant’s arms and hopped to her feet. “Okay, new plan!” Cepha pointed towards the city. “We’re going deep, deep in the terrible human city. To the most coolest, the best, most amazing place ever! We’re going to Cepha’s fanclub! I mean my fanclub!”

Her servant clapped quietly. “Friend-Master popular.” Cepha almost cried again.

“Uh huh, yep,” Cepha replied before helping her servant up. “I worked super hard on being the ultimate human bait. Perfect prepubescent body, my meticulously practiced mousy terrible squeely voice, my pretending to be bad at videogames. All RUSES! To trick humans into falling for me. WHICH THEY HAVE!”

The heroic spirit eyed up Cepha. “... Not human?”

“Glub glub glub snort, no I’m not a huuuuuuuuman! I am a Druid! Like a super amazing turbo-human without all the terrible ‘morals’ or ‘empathy’.”

“D-... Druid? Not Human…” She looked at Cepha with wonder in her eyes. “You like humans?”

“Nope! And when we win the uhh… uhm… the thingy! The thingy that we are in, together, I’m gonna use the prize to kill all humans!”

“Kill all humans!” The heroic spirit cheered. Again, she was smiling. She took Cepha’s hands, and now it was HER turn to lead. “Friend-Master kill humans!”

Cepha laughed, already totally lost as they took their first turn onto a different city street. Already the two girls were adrift in a sea of late-night business folk. But Cepha knew, if she just kept walking, and never stopped, and never asked for directions, and just tried really hard, things would work out. This nasty city full of nasty people was not some cereal box maze to confuse the great Cepha von Mink! It was nothing but a distraction! A target for her hatred!

But her friend wasn’t a source of hatred. Friends don’t hate friends. Except sometimes. But friends learned all about each other! So when they did hate each other, blackmail was so much easier. So Cepha asked some questions of her servant. “Hey, hey, friend, let’s exchange information. But only you exchange, and I don’t tell you anything.” The heroic spirit nodded in return. “Okay: Do you eat seafood often?”

“No.”

“What’s your opinion on fracking?”

“What?”

“How often do you litter?”

“No litter.”

“When you sneeze, do you cover with your hands or your elbows”?

“None.”

“Ew. How’s your vision?”

“Eyes good.”

“How often do you clean yourself?”

“...Some time.”

“What’s your favourite colour?”

“Green.”

“Do you have the same anatomy as me?”

“No, is different.”

“Are you into any weird demony kinda stuff?”

“I-I-”

“NEVERMIND SHUT UP WE’RE HERE!” Cepha kicked in the door of the Love Hotel and pointed finger guns at everyone in the lobby. Everyone inside turned their gazes to her, eyelids sagging and pupils dilated. The pockmarked, lonely, sad, depressed, smelly, shut-in, turbo-virgin, loser-nerds of the city.

Her fans.

Cepha mounted a nearby table and raised her finger guns to the sky. "All of you are now under my leader _ship_ . If you do not listen to what I say prepare for immediate fishipline! You've all lead lazy, incorrigible, downright YAWNTOWN lives. But I'm here to fix that."

She pumped a fist in the air. "If you join me you will get to see my new Twitch Stream in... HD!"

A few males way in the back hooted. 

"If you join me I will autograph ANYTHING and EVERYTHING you own!"

People started whipping out their phones and recording her.

"I PROMISE YOU THAT IF YOU JOIN ME I WILL NOT TAUNT YOU TO DEATH WITH MY SICK BARBS OF WIT!"

They converged near her table, swarms, masses, a gelatinous broth of silly humans! Cepha kneeled and cupped a female's face. "Yes, I will love all of you. And you. And you! You'll all be my allies, my children. You will ride my ferris wheel and I will love you dearly! In this steamy den we will... we will..."

She trailed off, her thoughts liquefying. What is happening? Something in the air. The stench of humans, something was amiss. She couldn't control her thoughts as they raced and reared, as her heart hammered against her ribcage as if trying to claw its way out. Her brain was a heart. Was it? Huh? It pounded too. Thickly against her skull. "We will... We'll, hah, hahahaha!"

Cepha’s servant pulled her down from the table and half-dragged half-carried her out of the lobby. Anyone who tried to stop her received a bestial growl in response. The first unoccupied, liveable room in the building was claimed by the pair, and Cepha was laid out on the bed. “Rest, friend-master. You too excited. Bad for you. Rest. I watch you.”

Cepha smiled and searched for Caster's hand with her own from her blanket.

"I'm so glad I made a friend," she said, weak, her eyelids heavy. "I'm so glad... I can make friends. Ahhhhhhhhahahaha I love you, goodnight. Glub."

And she zonked the fish out.

 

* * *

 

Father Isaac had been surprisingly relieved to take his leave of the Watanabe family that night. He’d not seen so many baby pictures in all his days. That the children could still look at him after all those photo albums was a miracle in its own right. To step out of that house, even for the task at hand, was at least a breath of fresh air.

A fifteen minute walk from the house, he found a fitting area to perform the deed. With the utmost care and patience, the circle was drawn. The catalyst was prepared. The chant was read. The contract was formed. And from that oath, Isaac’s servant.

He stood, for a moment, unmoving. His eyes shifting and turning all about, searching for something, or perhaps just becoming familiar with the land. Finally his eyes upon Isaac, and he offered a low bow. “A thousand pardons, sir, but are you to be my master?”

“It would seem that I am,” Isaac said. His servant might not be quite the issue he had initially imagined. He took the shape of a man not much older than Isaac, and a rather handsome one at that. Blue and white robes hung loosely to his frame, a spare few scrolls and quills strewn along his waist. Short black hair peeked out from under his hood as he rose from his bow and smiled warmly at Isaac. “Shall we walk and talk, or would you prefer we have things out right here?”

“I shall follow you, my master, wherever you lead,” he answered calmly. “As is the place of a mere servant.”

“Though you may be a servant, all are equal in God’s eyes.” It was odd to see such an existence take the subservient role. Even with surface level knowledge, a servant’s power should greatly eclipse Isaac’s. “But let us walk. And do forgive me for what minimal mana I can provide. I do not believe that issue will rectify itself in these coming times.”

“Be unashamed you were not born a mage, my master,” his servant said with a nod. “Knowledge, though a great gift, is a terrible curse. To know of such things even more so. I shall maintain myself well enough, unless my powers are required in excess. But you do not seem the type to order such things.”

“Correct. I don’t plan to make any grand moves in this war. This city has suffered enough at the hands of those who would. I pray the other masters see likewise. Tell me, what class do you belong to? I see no weapon on your body, but to a heroic spirit, I doubt that to be an issue.”

“But a humble Caster, my master.” He bowed once more. “Heroic spirit of Magecraft. An irony that I should be placed beside a master with no magecraft to speak of, but it is the will of the Grail. You would not be cast in this role if there was not a greater purpose.”

“You sound like the Father.” Isaac gave a low chuckle as they reached the crest of a hill. His host family’s home was in sight. “Does the location of our base matter? I don’t want to risk the Watanabes, my host family, getting involved in this war. It may be best if we simply relocate.”

“So long as there is a roof above my head and a location from which to work, I will be satisfied. My talents shall turn even a lowly bunker into an unassailable fortress,” he added with pride.

Leaving the hard decisions to the master? Fitting. “If that’s the case, then tomorrow our job shall be to seek that bunker. For tonight, I’d like to spend time with my hosts, and to give them my thanks.”

“Shall I accompany you in this body, master, or would you prefer I take the form of a spirit?”

Could he really do that? Isaac pushed the thought aside. “I think it would do well that you join us,” Isaac replied. “It would be terrible for you to spend your first night doing nothing but watching and listening. And it may be some comfort to the Watanabes that I do not leave alone.”

A hint of a smile spread across Caster’s face as he gave an appreciative nod. “Of course, Master, a thousand thanks for your consideration. This is your family, then?”

“Merely a stop on the road, I’m afraid,” Isaac answered somberly. “My namesake family and I… it has been quite some time since last we spoke. I have long forgone the path they chose to walk. The church has been my family since I was but a boy.”

“It is unfortunate to hear that you were so quickly left without, but it is well to see you found a calling to something higher. To make the best of a bad situation, and to turn it upon its end, that is the mark of true excellence! Treasure it, master.” Caster maintained space, a few steps behind Isaac. “If you will permit an old man his ramblings.”

“Old man?” Isaac chuckled. “You look no more than thirty, Caster. If the women of my congregation are any authority, thirty is the new twenty.” That Caster refused to walk by his side was… off putting. But for now, Isaac would let it settle. No need to make a fuss on the first night. “Did you learn that from another master?”

“I learned it firsthand,” Caster replied with pride. “In my time, I was quite the strategist. To make advantages of weaknesses was a talent one required in excess to make due. I was not lacking for weaknesses,” he admitted with a sharp laugh.

Isaac contained a snort at the self-depreciation of a being capable of changing history through his will. They continued on the next few minutes in silence until, at last, they reached the Watanabe household. Predictably, the lights were still on, a welcoming sign. “Do you have an alias I could ask of you, Caster? Oh, and please don’t call me Master, it may give off the wrong impression. My name is Isaac.”

Caster stroked his chin. “If it pleases you, Isaac, you may address me as Xuan.” He looked the house over, stripping it with his eyes before smiling faintly. “Come now, introduce me. I do swear I am a model house guest, or so I’ve been told.”

“Of that I had no doubt,” Isaac said before popping in through the front door. He lead Xuan through the foyer into the living room, quietly interrupting family game night. “Excuse me? Mister and Mrs. Watanabe, this is Xuan.”

Xuan bowed and clasped his hands in front of him. “My dearest and most sincere apologies to interrupt. I do so hope I am not intruding upon anything important. You have a lovely home.”

What a charmer. “Xuan just came into town, you see, and is without any place to stay. If it isn’t a burden, could he sleep here? He can stow away in my room, and we’ll be gone by morning.”

Mr. Watanabe smiled and shook Xuan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet a friend of Isaac’s. Of course it’s no trouble.” This kindness wasn’t surprising, not from that Watanabe. But it was heartwarming all the same. “And don’t feel like you have to rush yourself out, stay as long as you need!”

“I’m afraid duty calls, as they say,” Isaac said with a genuine sadness. “Our time is quickly drawing to close, my friend. But, if I may, perhaps I could join you for game night tonight?”

Mrs. Watanabe and her son made room for Isaac around the table. “Fortunate timing, we were about to start another game.”

Xuan bowed his head. “I shall retire to my room. I do detest coming between family.”

Isaac shook his head and pulled a chair from the table. “Nonsense, Xuan. Join us, enjoy your first night in town.”

There was a gleam in his eyes as Xuan joined them at the table. “If it’s no issue, gladly. But be warned, I shall not hold back!”

It would be several hours of carousing before finally Isaac left the table to retire to his room. And Xuan quick to join him. True to his word, Xuan had won a considerable number of the games he’d joined. The moment they were alone in Isaac’s chambers, Xuan pulled a map from his waist and went to work.

“Eager, aren’t we?” Isaac asked as he readied himself for bed.

“No war is won without maps, Master.”

“Isaac, please."

Caster nodded. “Isaac. Do get some rest for yourself, allow this old dog some time to his things. Oh it has been ages since I’ve been able to strategize like this! I couldn’t hope to war under better circumstances. Thank you for this opportunity!”

Isaac patted his servants back before saying a prayer, and slipping into bed. The quiet scrawlings of his servant a white noise to lull him to sleep. If this was to be his one day of peace… it had at least been a good one. Tomorrow things would be different. He would be on his own.

No, that wasn’t the case. He would have Caster. He would have Xuan. Though it was Hell itself he was walking into, he had no fear. He was not alone. He may not be a guardian angel, but he was his companion for this war. And for that, Isaac was blessed all the same.

Even if Xuan was a cheat at Liar’s Dice.

 

* * *

 

_How long in this Hell?_

_The stars said days, but they passed like months._

_Agonizing eternities._

_But she remained unbroken._

_Tucked away where no one would find her. Where no one would remember her. Where no one would think of her._

_Branded, scarred, left to rot without comfort or solace. Even death would be an indulgence._

_But she would not die. She would fight back_

_It would not take her. It shall not take her. It could not take her._

_She was determined. This castle would not be her grave._

_It would mark her rebirth._

_No time to hurt. No time to worry. No time to rest. No time to think._

_There was naught but the abyss in every direction. And her only escape was deeper in it still._


End file.
